The blazing sun, lifting itself into the sky, lit up the treetops like embers on the end of a charring piece of wood. Crouched midway up on a cross-branch of a towering, sprawling oak Mercury Steele leaned forward against the wind coming in from the East. The invisible, persistent wall presented him a challenge elemental in nature; in actuality it was a challenge to himself. He stood up, closed his eyes, and inhaled. He felt weightless. Mercury extended his foot just beyond the reach of the branch ready for life to hit him in the face.
“Ahhhhh! Don’t!” the screaming continued, “No!”
Mercury snapped out of his trance and looked to the ground below him. An __old man__ was running from a bear that was being chased by a __woman__ . This was not the interruption he had expected, but decided it had happened when and where it did for a reason. Perhaps there was time yet for his salvation.
* * *
The way the __boy__ , in his tattered cloth shorts, approached the group without fear or wonder really struck Mercury. His body was covered in cryptic tattoos and he had the most brilliant eyes Mercury had ever seen. He had noticed the boy a distance up the road and had, frankly, thought him to be bait for an ambush. It was a common trick used among the bloodthirsty highwaymen that littered the land. Mercury had used it more than once in some of the darker moments on his journey here. There was relatively little cover on either side of the trail they had been traveling on and the abundance of sunlight made it clear there was no one hiding among the scarce brush. Just the boy.
Virgil, being the most outspoken and naïve of the bunch, bent down to the boy and spoke up.
“Little boy, little boy.” he called. “Where are your parents little boy?”
The child looked at him and said plainly, “I don’t know.”
“Well, you don’t know, eh? Where are you from little boy?”
“I don’t know.” he said again and scratched his filthy leg. At this Virgil stood back upright and looked at the boy disapprovingly. The child looked past Virgil to Mercury. Like a dissipating reflection in a pool, Mercury could see his younger-self in the round, hard eyes of the child for a fleeting moment.
Mercury finally spoke up, “Where are you going?” The million dollar question, he thought.
* * *
Mercury led his new companions down the road. Virgil marched dutifully beside him with Ursa, her pet bear Winnie, and Kid bringing up the rear. He could hear lighthearted banter being exchanged between Ursa and Kid, as well as playful grumbles from Winnie. The group seemed to have come together on pure coincidental terms, but was already bonding. Mercury hadn’t been attached to anyone after Camille, as a matter of fact, he hadn’t cared about life at all after her, but the way that kid looked at him, as if he were saying, “This is your last chance.” Mercury had made up his mind already and knew he would be taking care of Kid whether he liked it or not. * * *
Virgil stood in the door of the shack panting heavily, still clutching the scythe with white knuckles. His brow furrowed and mouth agape, he stared blankly ahead. The decapitated body of a young man lay at his feet, as pooling blood crept across the dusty, wooden floor. Mercury recognized those eyes. Once, after terrorizing a small caravan of traders for miles along the banks of the Big River, he cornered the last of the camp in a cave. He snuck in and killed each of the remaining caravaners in cold blood while they were asleep. When he got to the back of the cave a small fire for cooking illuminated a little girl crying softly into her dead mother’s bosom. He killed her too and stood over the body with that very same stare until sunrise. He guided Virgil out of the shack by the elbow and pried the scythe from his hands, cleaned it, and put it in his pack. Thank God Kid was with Ursa and Winnie guarding the perimeter of the building. Seeing the dead man was nothing new to Mercury, or apparently Virgil, but it was something he didn’t want the boy to have to see.
* * *
The wind howled that night as everyone settled down for their first night’s sleep together. As always, Mercury was chilled to the bone. His body had reacted violently with the poisoning that Doc’ Targett put him through years ago. He was perpetually cold—his skin icy to the touch, he rarely slept more than a few hours, but his senses had been significantly heightened. He listened to Kid, who lay fast asleep next to their fire. His breathing was deep and rhythmic. Mercury pulled out a notebook and a sharpie and began to write.
He looked up at the brilliant stars dotting the night sky. He decided he was still going to hunt down Doc' Targett, regardless of the group. But the question now was; Would this Kid lead to his salvation or would he lead the Kid to his damnation?
Crossroads
The blazing sun, lifting itself into the sky, lit up the treetops like embers on the end of a charring piece of wood. Crouched midway up on a cross-branch of a towering, sprawling oak Mercury Steele leaned forward against the wind coming in from the East. The invisible, persistent wall presented him a challenge elemental in nature; in actuality it was a challenge to himself. He stood up, closed his eyes, and inhaled. He felt weightless. Mercury extended his foot just beyond the reach of the branch ready for life to hit him in the face.
“Ahhhhh! Don’t!” the screaming continued, “No!”
Mercury snapped out of his trance and looked to the ground below him. An __old man__ was running from a bear that was being chased by a __woman__ . This was not the interruption he had expected, but decided it had happened when and where it did for a reason. Perhaps there was time yet for his salvation.
* * *
The way the __boy__ , in his tattered cloth shorts, approached the group without fear or wonder really struck Mercury. His body was covered in cryptic tattoos and he had the most brilliant eyes Mercury had ever seen. He had noticed the boy a distance up the road and had, frankly, thought him to be bait for an ambush. It was a common trick used among the bloodthirsty highwaymen that littered the land. Mercury had used it more than once in some of the darker moments on his journey here. There was relatively little cover on either side of the trail they had been traveling on and the abundance of sunlight made it clear there was no one hiding among the scarce brush. Just the boy.
Virgil, being the most outspoken and naïve of the bunch, bent down to the boy and spoke up.
“Little boy, little boy.” he called. “Where are your parents little boy?”
The child looked at him and said plainly, “I don’t know.”
“Well, you don’t know, eh? Where are you from little boy?”
“I don’t know.” he said again and scratched his filthy leg. At this Virgil stood back upright and looked at the boy disapprovingly. The child looked past Virgil to Mercury. Like a dissipating reflection in a pool, Mercury could see his younger-self in the round, hard eyes of the child for a fleeting moment.
Mercury finally spoke up, “Where are you going?” The million dollar question, he thought.
* * *
Mercury led his new companions down the road. Virgil marched dutifully beside him with Ursa, her pet bear Winnie, and Kid bringing up the rear. He could hear lighthearted banter being exchanged between Ursa and Kid, as well as playful grumbles from Winnie. The group seemed to have come together on pure coincidental terms, but was already bonding. Mercury hadn’t been attached to anyone after Camille, as a matter of fact, he hadn’t cared about life at all after her, but the way that kid looked at him, as if he were saying, “This is your last chance.” Mercury had made up his mind already and knew he would be taking care of Kid whether he liked it or not.
* * *
Virgil stood in the door of the shack panting heavily, still clutching the scythe with white knuckles. His brow furrowed and mouth agape, he stared blankly ahead. The decapitated body of a young man lay at his feet, as pooling blood crept across the dusty, wooden floor. Mercury recognized those eyes. Once, after terrorizing a small caravan of traders for miles along the banks of the Big River, he cornered the last of the camp in a cave. He snuck in and killed each of the remaining caravaners in cold blood while they were asleep. When he got to the back of the cave a small fire for cooking illuminated a little girl crying softly into her dead mother’s bosom. He killed her too and stood over the body with that very same stare until sunrise.
He guided Virgil out of the shack by the elbow and pried the scythe from his hands, cleaned it, and put it in his pack. Thank God Kid was with Ursa and Winnie guarding the perimeter of the building. Seeing the dead man was nothing new to Mercury, or apparently Virgil, but it was something he didn’t want the boy to have to see.
* * *
The wind howled that night as everyone settled down for their first night’s sleep together. As always, Mercury was chilled to the bone. His body had reacted violently with the poisoning that Doc’ Targett put him through years ago. He was perpetually cold—his skin icy to the touch, he rarely slept more than a few hours, but his senses had been significantly heightened. He listened to Kid, who lay fast asleep next to their fire. His breathing was deep and rhythmic. Mercury pulled out a notebook and a sharpie and began to write.
He looked up at the brilliant stars dotting the night sky. He decided he was still going to hunt down Doc' Targett, regardless of the group. But the question now was; Would this Kid lead to his salvation or would he lead the Kid to his damnation?